


where the sea pours into the stars

by soonuwus



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Mirror Sex, Pining, Praise Kink, Voyeurism, and oh my i love it here!, because i've been trying to live in the gray space, but i didnt bother to distinguish the two, sort of??, this is so soft but also so hard, you know ;) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soonuwus/pseuds/soonuwus
Summary: Wonwoo feels as though all of his worries have been swept away by the crashing of Soonyoung’s waves along his shores, and what would it be for a shore to refuse the wave that is so destined to crash upon it?





	where the sea pours into the stars

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello my little starlings!  
> It has been a minute since I posted (largely due to me starting classes) but I am here with a tiny humble offering for you (as I work to try and churn out some larger works among the endless torrent of classwork I have to do... I am a writing major so... I have to do so much writing)  
> I am going to launch into a little aside about this because I, being the naive and childish piscean I am, love to view every little thing in this world as being connected.  
> So, on my morning commute today, I saw a poem on the wall of the train (I guess the MTA has this partnership w some poetry foundation and they hang poems in the subway trains... I've seen them before but have never read them) and for some reason, this one struck me, like hard. I've been reading a lot of poetry lately but there's something about the simplicity of lyric verse, when done right, that I just ooze and ache for. This one, of course, employed some really gorgeous oceanic metaphor (a fave of mine if you know me well)  
> Anyways, I went to two grueling classes and came home and did some homework and all of that left my brain. But then I got the inkling that I should take a break from writing (even tho it is now past 9 pm and I still have like 6 pages to write) and write something sexie. so I just wrote, as I tend to do sometimes, just sat and let the words flow out of me. this was really supposed to be like.. a straightforward smut piece, but I have been writing a LOT lately, and looking for ways to incorporate new learnings into all of my writing, so of course I took this opportunity to do so. I also feel like for some reason this work expresses something deep within me that I wanted to get out, though I'm not so sure what that is.  
> Anyway, jesus, long ass aside, I'm just an idiot who loves to ponder all the connections in the world, in all of its synchronicity. Basically, I was trying to think of a title and I remembered the poem from this morning. Funny how a chance meeting with some beautiful words can leave such an indellible mark.  
> I will provide a link to that poem in the end notes!! anyway.. from here on out, enjoy, get wild, get your freak on, get your feelings on. tell someone you love them today, if you haven't already.  
> Yours truly,,,,,, (the auteur, going to die as she forces herself to write drivel for class after dedicating all of her good ideas to smut fanfiction!)

Wonwoo always had a wandering gaze during dance practice, one that all too often ended up following the movements that Soonyoung’s body flowed into so effortlessly as he attempted to demonstrate his choreographic ideas to the rest of the group. The longer practice went on, the more Soonyoung dripped sweat, the longer Wonwoo’s eyes lingered. Every so often, Soonyoung would step out of his sort of cocky, almost self-important choreographer’s headspace and let his gaze meet Wonwoo’s, Soonyoung’s tiger eyes filled with the smug air he carried with him whenever he got the chance to play leader to their group. At this, Wonwoo would usually dart his eyes away, toward the ground, to linger uncomfortably on something less concrete, not as gripping as Soonyoung’s poetic rhythms in motion. He had been dealing with these feelings for a moment too long. Of course, he had always admired Soonyoung, ever since their days as starry-eyed trainees. Then, his feelings were shrouded in his naivety, and to him, Soonyoung was his best friend and seemingly nothing more.

Back then, all touch between him and Soonyoung was residual, as clingy hugs melted into sweet hand-holding, which gave way to cuddling on the practice room floor or one of them resting an arm around the other’s shoulder or waist. Wonwoo had grown used to this;l it seemed to be a kind of constant in his life. As the ocean rolled upon its shore every day, Soonyoung’s touch always finding its way back to him was a given, seemingly a law of nature.

But Wonwoo’s feelings had only grown more complicated with age, and he found himself now overthinking Soonyoung’s touch, even rejecting it as he did his gaze, whenever it became  _ too  _ tangible, too palpable for him to bear. Wonwoo always ended up being the one to let go, even if he didn’t want to, because he knew that if he held fast, he could drag their relationship with him, bring it somewhere that Soonyoung might not be prepared for or want. Wonwoo didn’t want to find out whether he did or not. He didn’t want to know what might happen if he gave in to his impulses, if he let his hands linger on Soonyoung’s back and dip down to thumb at the small of it. He didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection from his best friend, and he also didn’t want to make anything complicated for Soonyoung. It already was far too complicated for him.

Of course, with Wonwoo’s sacrifices came even more problems, like the fading of Soonyoung’s smile that seemed to punctuate the breaks in contact that Wonwoo made. He remembered moments when Soonyoung wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in to press his body against his, out of pure love and adoration, out of friendship, and all Wonwoo could do to save himself and his own selfish feelings was pull away. He hated the way that Soonyoung’s usually perky lips downturned into a lifeless pout, the way that his eyes asked a million questions at once, “whys” and “whats” thrown into the void that Wonwoo created between them, never to find an answer. Soonyoung always laughed it off, the way he loved to do, and moved on, but Wonwoo felt increasingly worse every time he had to pull away from Soonyoung, lest his whims get the best of him.

These were the thoughts that flooded Wonwoo’s head at the end of this particular practice, one in which he’d spent hours struggling to keep his marks and get the moves down. His head was somewhere else entirely, and when his consciousness was pulled back into the practice room, it was only brought back by the grace of Soonyoung’s hips, the way they moved with intent, the way that the sweat pooled on his forehead only to be wiped away with a swift flick of his wrist. Whenever Soonyoung moved, it was poetry, Wonwoo thought. Wonwoo couldn’t find meaning in much, and that seemed to be what he struggled to do in all of his life’s pursuits, but he found meaning in every breath Soonyoung took, every word he spoke, every carefully determined move he made in dance and in life. He was beginning to drown in all of the meaning he’d found in Soonyoung, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to pull himself out.

  
  


———

  
  


“Ah, I think that’s enough for today,” Wonwoo is pulled out of the swell of his thoughts, finally, by none other than their subject. Soonyoung pants through a short critique of everyone’s work, advising certain members to work on certain moves, or their expressions, or any other aspect of the performance that he had not deemed up to his standards quite yet. As Wonwoo tries to ground himself, he fights through every labored breath that lingers from his attempts at learning their choreography. He finds himself planted on the ground, legs crossed, and he stretches as he tries to gather himself and his thoughts.

Wonwoo struggles to root himself, to bring his thoughts back to earth, but when he finally does, he opens his eyes to find the room empty save for Soonyoung.

“I thought you were asleep for a second,” Soonyoung says, laughing slightly. He is sitting across from Wonwoo, leaning against the mirror as though he was prepared to sit there all night and wait for Wonwoo to return to their realm.

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed kind of… off lately,” Soonyoung asks the question like it’s a revolver loaded with a single bullet, cautiously. He reaches out to Wonwoo like he knows that prying could just set him off, but Soonyoung has never been good at giving up on tricky situations.

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo answers unconvincingly, eyes avoiding Soonyoung’s gaze yet again. This prompts Soonyoung to scoot closer, and to lend a hand to Wonwoo’s shoulder, one that Wonwoo does not promptly refuse because he cannot stand to see Soonyoung look at him  _ that way _ again. It would hurt more than he could bear.

“Was it something…” Soonyoung trails off, looking away from his friend, but his arm staying planted on his shoulder reassuringly. “Was it something I did?” Soonyoung turns back to face Wonwoo this time, and Wonwoo wants to sink into the ground beneath him, to shrivel up and let the earth take him back where he came from, for his body to dissipate and return to its place in the dirt.

“N-no,” Wonwoo’s voice breaks as he struggles to stutter out a response.

“I just feel like,” Soonyoung pauses, “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me, and I want to fix it if it was something I did. You can tell me, I swear, I just want to make things right.”

“Soonyoung, it’s not you,” Wonwoo pauses and wracks his brain for something, anything but the useless cliche that lingers on his tongue, but finds nothing. “I guess it’s me…” Wonwoo admits, voice timid and growing smaller with each passing second.

“What do you mean?” Soonyoung asks, incredulous as his eyebrows knit into a confused furrow, and his lower lip juts out in a pout.

“I don’t mean anything,” is all Wonwoo can choke out. He feels like his voice has shattered, his vocal cords shrivelling up and losing their leaves in an icy cold frost. He feels like he could never find the words, like he would never want to find the words, lest Soonyoung just laugh at him or scorn him. Actually, he thinks the latter wouldn’t be as painful as the second option, the one he fears the most: that things will become even more fraught between the two, that Soonyoung will shudder at his confession with an unsure “Oh,” and look away, never to exchange a glance with him again.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Soonyoung moves in closer as he says this, wrapping his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder, and Wonwoo absently lets his own arm linger around Soonyoung’s waist. He hungers for the touch that he has deprived himself of for so long out of self-preservation. Wonwoo wonders if he had been preserving anything this whole time, whether it be his own sanity or Soonyoung’s friendship with him. He begins to wonder if Soonyoung has missed their lingering touches as much as he has.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Soonyoung finally says as he embraces Wonwoo in a soft hug, letting his arms droop to find the center of Wonwoo’s back and plant reassuring rubs and pats along his spine. Wonwoo buries his face into Soonyoung’s shoulder, all sweat and his own scent which Wonwoo feels like he has not been able to experience so closely for so long.

Wonwoo stays like this as long as he wants, and Soonyoung lets him. He takes in the other’s scent and breathes in tandem with him until he pulls away to meet his gaze in a way that is earnest, that feels like a call to their past. Wonwoo gets lost in it, dazed yet again, falling deeper into the same grounding agent he has used time and time again.

Before he knows it, he’s kissing Soonyoung. Actually, he has been kissing Soonyoung for maybe a minute? And Soonyoung’s been letting him do it, and kissing him back.

Wonwoo pulls away, shame hitting him all at once.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, and Soonyoung keeps a hand on his arm, just letting out a stifled laugh, at which Wonwoo shoots him a glare.

“I’m sorry… why are you sorry?” Soonyoung asks this as if nothing of note had happened, as if their lips sharing the same breaths was as normal to them as talking.

“Because I kissed you?” Wonwoo asks, voice still weak and timid but pitching up into a confused lilt.

“And I let you,” Soonyoung says, matter-of-fact, like it’s a simple equation he’s relaying. Two plus two equals four, he says.

“I just…” Wonwoo trails off, shutting his eyes in doubt. “So, you wanted to kiss me?”

When Wonwoo looks at him, Soonyoung’s mouth is hanging slightly agape the way it always does when he’s pondering something or planning his next move.

All Soonyoung does to answer Wonwoo’s question is lean back in, a thumb and forefinger grasping Wonwoo’s chin gently to guide him. He kisses Wonwoo for the second time, and this time Wonwoo feels present, like he can live in the home that Soonyoung has opened up for him, the one he finds between his lips, at the slight scrape of sloppy teeth, in their breaths tangling and getting lost in one another. Soonyoung takes his time, soft kisses growing into longer, more open-ended ones, until he finally pulls away.

“Does that answer your question?” Soonyoung asks, smirking.

At this point, Wonwoo feels as though all of his worries have been swept away by the crashing of Soonyoung’s waves along his shores, and what would it be for a shore to refuse the wave that is so destined to crash upon it?

So, he lets Soonyoung’s lips crash against his, again and again. They take turns initiating sweet kisses that become more playful, that then become more eager, and those kisses eventually become wracked with want and lust and everything in between. Soonyoung sucks on Wonwoo’s bottom lip and Wonwoo lets out a groan. Wonwoo opens his mouth to let Soonyoung’s tongue explore its reaches, angling his head to the side so that Soonyoung can feel every inch of him.

Wonwoo is content to stay like this with Soonyoung forever, or so he thinks, until he feels Soonyoung’s hand slide up under his shirt and make contact with his skin. He lurches forward into Soonyoung’s touch and whines when Soonyoung finally finds his nipple, tweaking it between his thumb and finger teasingly. He moves from Wonwoo’s lips to find the taut pull of skin between his neck and shoulder, suckling along the way as he moves down to kiss his clavicle.

Soonyoung pulls away to watch Wonwoo moan and keen into his touch, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, the same that Wonwoo knows from watching him so many times onstage or in practice.

“How long have you been thinking about me like this?” Soonyoung ventures, his voice breathy and low, and that just makes Wonwoo moan even louder, his sounds getting harder to stifle as Soonyoung moves back in to lift his shirt up and discard it so that he can trail kisses and suckles down his chest. Soonyoung swirls his tongue around his nipple and sucks, revelling more and more in every little noise that Wonwoo allows from his lips. At this point, Wonwoo is propped on his knees so he can lean further into Soonyoung’s touch, both of his legs draped over Soonyoung’s own. He finally gives into the growing sense of want in his stomach, grinding his hardened cock down onto Soonyoung’s thigh.

“You want me so bad, huh? Aren’t you going to tell me how much?”

“So,  _ s-so _ , much,” is all Wonwoo can choke out in response as Soonyoung moves his hands down to grip his hips and keep him steady and close as Wonwoo searches for purchase and release from Soonyoung’s fully clothed thigh, the friction of clothes blocking the contact of skin becoming too much for him to bear.

“Gosh, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says, pausing to leave kisses along his chest again, “you’re normally so, so articulate, yet now you can’t say anything more than that? Come on, you can do better. Tell me how you feel.”

“I want to feel your hands on every inch of me,” Wonwoo gets this out but eats his own words in a whine as Soonyoung grinds his thigh back up into his hard-on. “I want to be completely at your mercy,  _ ahh, ah- _ I don’t want you to hold back. I’ve been waiting so,  _ so-oh,  _ long for this, for  _ you. _ ”

When Wonwoo finishes speaking, Soonyoung pulls him back into an embrace and shares a hungry kiss with him, moaning into Wonwoo’s mouth as his hands drag slowly down his back.

“I bet it’s been so, so hard, baby. I bet you’ve been waiting so long,” Soonyoung says when he breaks the kiss, only to move back in and kiss Wonwoo’s temple, to move down his face with swift kisses, planting them all the way down his jawline. Soonyoung is brimming with something as he does this, something that Wonwoo can’t exactly place in his dazed, blissful state. He thinks it to be something like happiness, perhaps even love, but he doesn’t want to let such feelings or their possible absence distract him right now. All he can feel, all he can see is Soonyoung, and nothing can pull him out of that abyss right now.

“I have an idea. Sit down for a second,” Soonyoung says as he gently pushes Wonwoo’s hips, signaling him to move off of him, and Wonwoo gasps at the loss of touch, of friction as he settles back onto his heels, too far from Soonyoung now.

“Take off your pants for me,” Soonyoung orders, but not intimidatingly so. He has a gentle lilt to his voice as he directs Wonwoo, and Wonwoo wouldn’t want it any other way. Wonwoo quickly disrobes and discards his jeans, left only in his boxer briefs, feeling vulnerable and ajar in front of Soonyoung, left to do whatever he likes with him.

Soonyoung takes him in, eyes moving up and down his body, and Wonwoo sees his gaze fade from hungry into one of wonderment. Wonwoo blushes and fiddles with his hands, laid bare in front of Soonyoung, the only way he’s ever wanted to be with him.

Soonyoung approaches Wonwoo on his knees to meet him, and kisses him softly yet again, a kiss filled with admiration, but quickly escalating into desire.

“Turn around for me, love,” Soonyoung says, and Wonwoo almost purrs at the pet names he keeps peppering into his words. He feels like he could die happy in that moment, in every moment that Soonyoung speaks to him as though he is undeniably, irrevocably  _ his. _

Wonwoo turns around, and suddenly he is met with the vision of himself in the practice room mirror. At once, only where there was Soonyoung’s body moving up to meet his, Soonyoung’s lips melting into his own, there is suddenly an awareness that he is here, too, that he isn’t just floating above his own body watching all of this happen. He gets stuck on the image of himself in the mirror, cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, neck blotchy red and chest littered in light red raspberries.

The worst part of this new awareness, though, is when he sees Soonyoung approach him from behind, truly like a tiger stalking his prey, hungrily and with utmost precision. He finally reaches Wonwoo and he wraps an arm around his waist, bringing him flesh against his fully-clothed body to feel Soonyoung’s own hard-on pressing against him. Wonwoo watches with rapt attention as this happens, taking in the sensory experience of all of it through the mirror.

“Good, baby,” Soonyoung says, “this is what I want. I want you to watch us, I want you to commit this to memory. I don’t want you to look away. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes,” Wonwoo chokes out, his mouth dry as he stares at the image of Soonyoung enveloping him in the mirror. He watches as Soonyoung’s hands graze his body, painstakingly slow, keeping his eye on the right hand that moves now toward his center and finally finds the fabric of his boxers. Soonyoung palms his cock, touch almost featherlight and never,  _ never  _ enough.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo begs, “Please, please-”

“ _ Please,  _ what?” Soonyoung asks, almost feigning a sort of incredulous wonder.

“Please, just touch me already,  _ for real, _ ” Wonwoo grunts out, voice severe and firm.

“If that’s what you want,” Soonyoung says, and Wonwoo can see him smirk into his shoulder, though he cannot see his mouth entirely, he can tell by the way his eyes flit up and their corners turn into little crescents.

Soonyoung sits himself down on the floor, dragging Wonwoo with him, bringing his ass down to lean against his lap. The contact with Soonyoung’s straining cock through his pants makes Wonwoo whine.

“Get rid of these,” Soonyoung orders, patting lightly on Wonwoo’s hip, and Wonwoo discards his boxers as swiftly as he can, revealing his leaking cock. The image of himself naked, skin reddened and sweaty in the mirror, is enough to make it twitch.

Soonyoung sits himself back up on his knees and spreads his legs to bring Wonwoo in as close as possible, so that he can almost rest his chin on Wonwoo’s shoulder. He taps again on Wonwoo’s leg, signaling him to spread them, and Wonwoo complies.

“Look at how pretty you are, babe,” Soonyoung says, almost innocently affectionate, like he isn’t staring at Wonwoo naked, covered in red marks, cock hard and all. Wonwoo feels himself twitch again, moaning at the praise.

Wonwoo finally feels what he’s been missing when Soonyoung kisses languidly along his neck, all the way down to his shoulder. He drags his hands teasingly along the skin of Wonwoo’s thighs, each and every hair on his legs standing on end at Soonyoung’s touch, warmth leaving goosebumps where it goes. He finally makes contact with Wonwoo’s cock, but instead moves lower to grip his balls, and Wonwoo just groans. He knows that Soonyoung is aware that it’s not the touch he wants right now.

“I know, baby, it’s so hard, isn’t it? But you waited so long already. What’s another minute or two?”

“ _ Soonyoung,” _  Wonwoo nearly growls, “I swear to fucking  _ god. _ ”

Soonyoung finally moves his hand up slightly to grip Wonwoo’s cock, and Wonwoo sighs at the feeling. Soonyoung angles himself slightly to the left of Wonwoo now, so he can reach around and kiss his lips as he jerks him off, still painfully slow. He sucks on his ear-lobe sweetly as he sighs, and Wonwoo can feel Soonyoung’s hot breath in his ear as he’s toying with his cock and it becomes absolutely too,  _ too _ much for him. He gets lost in it, drowning inside Soonyoung again and again.

“You’re beautiful, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says in between kisses, “just look.”

Wonwoo turns to find the image in the mirror, a ghost of themselves, or so he thinks. He sees Soonyoung’s hand firmly wrapped around his cock, which is leaking precum at its head, and he trails his eyes up to find himself, even further littered with bites from Soonyoung’s never-ending torrents of sucks and licks and kisses, begging constantly to meet Wonwoo’s skin. Finally, his eyes move to Soonyoung, meeting his reflection in the mirror. His gaze is indisputably fond, there is no other word for it. Soonyoung’s mouth hangs open slightly, like he does when he’s pondering his own thoughts, but this time Wonwoo can only feel his gaze on him. Soonyoung’s eyes aren’t travelling, never wandering like they love to do, the way they move on and on as he thinks. No, his gaze is fixed. Wonwoo is all he can see. Wonwoo feels that all at once, and something deep within him begs him to look away, tells him that this is all too intimate, almost horrifyingly so, but Soonyoung’s voice pulls him back.

“God, you’re  _ so beautiful _ ,” Soonyoung says, now leaning into Wonwoo a bit, resting his head on his shoulder as his hand pumps lazily at his cock still. “You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart, but I have a feeling this isn’t enough.”

With that, Soonyoung moves abruptly to kneel between Wonwoo’s spread legs, and press a kiss to the head of his cock. Wonwoo shudders at the feeling of Soonyoung’s lips, which have traveled his entire body, seemingly, but this is uncharted territory. Soonyoung licks a slow stripe up from his shaft to the head, eyes unrelenting from Wonwoo’s own. He finally takes him into his mouth, bobbing slightly at the head at first, then suddenly dropping down to let his mouth envelop all of Wonwoo. When his cock is buried inside of Soonyoung’s mouth, Wonwoo can feel Soonyoung’s nose meet the tufts of hair at its base as he jerks up uncontrollably to meet the back of Soonyoung’s throat, warm and wet and inviting.

Soonyoung pulls off a bit to add his hand back in, pumping Wonwoo slowly as be bobs along to suck at his head.

“Fuck, Soonyoung,  _ you’re _ beautiful. So beautiful like this.”

Soonyoung moans around his cock in agreement, a sort of cocky  _ I know _ that he doesn’t even need to express in words for Wonwoo to understand exactly what he means. He bobs faster, and Wonwoo whines and moans and lets out bits of praise wherever he can,  _ you’re doing so well _ ’s and  _ you’re so gorgeous, baby _ ’s punctuated by hitched breaths and groans.

“I-I’m close, Soon-” is all Wonwoo has to stutter out for Soonyoung to stop going down on him and lift his head.

“Be a good boy for me, Wonwoo. Come for me. I want to taste you, so, so much,” is how Soonyoung interrupts him, and holy  _ fuck, _ that just about does it. That, and the steady rhythm that Soonyoung keeps up with his hand, and now Wonwoo is coming all over his face. Soonyoung tries to catch drops of it on his tongue, but some paints his lips and a little drop lands on his nose. The rest just coats Wonwoo’s cock, still in Soonyoung’s hand.

“Mmmm,” Soonyoung sighs, sitting back up to present Wonwoo with his fingers, and Wonwoo sucks every last bit of himself off until Soonyoung’s fingers are pristine again.

Wonwoo can feel the reality of what has just happened settling in around them, the air that was once thick with tension and doubt has now dissipated, dissolved around them as Wonwoo released all of that tension right onto Soonyoung’s face. Wonwoo was terrified of this, terrified of not knowing, and he realizes he still  _ doesn’t.  _ But now that the air has thinned, he doesn’t feel so afraid.

“So…” Wonwoo starts, once the two have seemed to come down as much as they could from the high they experienced together, “Was that just…”

As Wonwoo trails off, Soonyoung inches closer to him to plant a kiss on his cheek, and Soonyoung doesn’t give him a moment to finish his dismissive thought.

“It wasn’t _ just  _ anything, Wonwoo. What do you mean?”

“I mean… I think I might be in love with you. I was afraid to say it.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says, always so painfully curt in the best of ways, “I  _ know  _ that you’re in love with me. And I also know that I’m in love with you.”

Wonwoo feels a release better than the one that came with orgasm. He feels Soonyoung’s waves hit his shore, not with the crash of release, not with the swell of the tempest, but with the gentle ebb and flow of the ocean at dawn, when low-tide is in its sweet spot and the world is still asleep. Simple. Sure. That’s how things always were with Soonyoung, so sure, and oh-so simple.

And Wonwoo would be damned if he ever complicated them like that again.

“Come on,” Soonyoung says, tugging at Wonwoo’s arm, trying to pull him out of his satisfied daze as he stares off, a stupid smile glued to his lips, “You’re tired. Let’s go get some rest.”

“No,” Wonwoo says, daft and lovestruck and utterly fucked out, but also still aware of how hard Soonyoung felt before. Wonwoo gets on his knees and tugs Soonyoung’s arm back, to which Soonyoung so clearly does not resist. He lets himself be pulled in by Wonwoo like the shore inviting the waves, the way they always come back, the way they dance upon the wet sand and always linger there, the way their touch has always been.

“It’s my turn now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a link to the poem!!! I'm still reeling from it. And I read a shitton of gertrude stein last night (ehhehh) and yet this is what is really sticking with me. There is love and mercy to be found in simplicity.  
> https://slayground.livejournal.com/861656.html


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